


From Ostwick With Love

by Shield_Maiden_of_Sherwood



Series: Dragon Age Collection (Origins - DA:I) [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Custom Trevelyan, Dragon Age Headcanons, F/M, Headcanon, Ostwick, Playboy Sebastian, Pre-Breach, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Prequel, Promiscuous Trevelyan, Sebastian is a dashing rogue, Seduction, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Siblings, Spin-Off, Trevelyan (Dragon Age) has Sibling(s), original storyline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:44:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shield_Maiden_of_Sherwood/pseuds/Shield_Maiden_of_Sherwood
Summary: On the eve of her second eldest sister, Emely's, wedding,  Lena is feeling the pressure from her family to find a good match to make an alliance for her father, Teyrn Ryland Trevelyan, until she catches the eye of the youngest and roguishly handsome Sebastian. Perhaps Perhaps Lena will find some entertainment after all?THIS IS THE PREQUEL TO LENA'S STORY IN "Forgotten".





	1. Archíon Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsrockatansky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsrockatansky/gifts).



> Hello! So, some really quick notes.
> 
> First of all, this is the prequel to my story "Forgotten" and follows Lena Trevelyan during her life before the Breach and even before the Fifth Blight. Almost everything included in this is headcanon including:  
> \- Ostwick is heavily Ancient Greece/Rome inspired from the clothing, architecture, decor, traditions and celebrations.  
> \- Lena has a twin brother, Leon, and two elder sisters, Sara and Emely.  
> \- Ostwick is ruled by a Teyrn instead of a Bann  
> \- This story sets up some events and introduces some characters that make appearances in Forgotten and other stories within the series.
> 
> With all that being said, ENJOY!

**12** **th** **of Justinian, Dragon 9:29 - Morning**

The early morning sunlight glances off the polished armor of the Ostwick guard as he rushes down the winding steps toward the quay. Stopping before his lord, wheezing and flush red from exertion. “Maker, Robert.” The young Trevelyan lord chuckles as he looks at the older man. “Take a moment to breathe. Can’t have you keeling over before my sister’s ship arrives.”

“Yes, my lord.” Robert nods as he slumps over before launching into a coughing fit. Leon takes a cautious step back as his gaze turns toward the hacking guard. “Are you alright? Perhaps you should go to the infirmary…”

Robert straightens, his face a deeper red tinged with purple. Sucking in a deep breath, he shakes his head. “No need.” He says, his Ferelden accent clinging to each word. “I’m just not as young as I used to be.” He says with a rueful smile. Running a hand over his short grey hair, he inhales. “To think I used to run after you and your sister at one point.” He lets out a bark of laughter before he coughs once more.

Leon grins at the memory while his eyes scan the water on the horizon. “I remember that.” Leon chuckles with a grin. “Lena and I used bet sweets on who could outrun you. Once father found out, he banned us from having sweets for a month.”

“Yes, and I will always thank him for that.” Robert chuckles. “Speaking of your father, he sent me out here to see inquire if Lady Sara has landed yet.”

“Not yet.” Leon shakes his head. “I imagine she’ll be here within the hour or two. I’m sure she’d be happy to see Lena as well.” He smirks. “Knowing her, she’s probably still asleep.”

Robert’s brows draw together as he sighs. “Yes… Your father was annoyed that she wasn’t yet awake or dressed. With all the preparations for the ceremony, he was hoping to go over arrangements with the two of you before Sara arrives.”

“Well then,” Leon says, wiping the sheen of sweat beginning to form on his forehead from the early morning heat. “I should go wake my dear sister while we wait.” He shoots Robert a mischievous grin. “Can’t have her sleeping during Emely’s entire  _ Archíon _ !”

* * *

 

A warm breeze floats in through the open balcony doors making the transparent linen drapes flutters Lena’s lady’s maid, Evelyn, quickly crosses the white marble floors toward the bed. “My lady,” Her soft voice sounds as she sits on the soft mattress beside her mistress, taking care to avoid stepping into the small puddle of wine where the silver goblet had fallen from Lena’s hand. Seeing the goblet, puddle and empty wine bottle on the bedside table, Evelyn sighs before placing a hand on Lena’s bared shoulder, her nightshirt draped off her shoulder while one edge at the bottom was hiked up exposing the bottom of her breast. “My lady.” Evelyn says once more near her head. “You need to wake up.”

“Need some help?”

Looking up, a blush creeps up from her collarbone as she notices Leon leaned against the doorway. His dark green eyes shift toward his sister’s form sprawled out at an odd angle across her bed. “Let me guess, passed out while drinking again?” He asks, his lips curling up into an amused smirk.

Stealthily, Evelyn pulls Lena’s nightshirt down to cover her as she nods. “Yes.” Evelyn frowns. “Your father instructed me to draw her a bath so that, after I woke her, she could get ready for the day.” She says, her caramel-colored eyes wide as she pushes a rouge strand of golden hair behind her ear. “So far she’s not responding.”

Pushing his hair from his eyes, he motions to her. “May I?” Nodding, Evelyn jumps up from per perch and sweeps a hand toward Lena’s still form.

“Be my guest.” She says. “While you do that, I’ll get her things ready for her bath.” She blushes as she passes him and her arm gentle brushes his.

Coming to stand beside his sister’s bed, he crosses his arms over his broad chest with a chuckle. “Maker’s breath, Lena.” He mutters. Bending down, he retrieves the fallen goblet and almost sets it on the nearby table when he gets an idea. Grinning evilly, he glances around him before he sees what he needs on the table nearby.

Striding over to the table, he picks up the knife lying haphazardly on the table with no plate or other utensils in sight to justify its presence.  _ She was probably entertaining that young nobleman from Orlais last night who’s here for Emely’s wedding celebrations. _ Leon muses as he picks it up. Coming to stand beside his sister’s lifeless form once more, he leans down near her ear. “Lena.” He says, just above a whisper. “Wake up, Lena…”

Getting no response, he leans back. “You’re so going to kill me for this.” He chuckles to himself. Placing the goblet near her ear, he hits it a couple times with the knife, a sharp metallic peal sounding with each strike. Immediately, Lena’s brows furrow as she reaches up to cup her ear with a groan.

“Wake up, my dear sister.” Leon says sweetly with a wicked grin. “It’s a busy day.”

Groaning, Lena buries her face in the pillow. Leon sighs and strikes the goblet near her head once more. “Andraste’s ass, Leon!” Lena mutters, grasping her other pillow beside her and flings it at her brother who only laughs. It hits his chest and falls before he can grab it, falling in the spilt wine.

“You have terrible aim.” Leon teases as he stoops down to grab retrieve the now stained pillow from the floor. He wrinkles his nose at the red blotch as his eyes shift to Lena’s back. “Always have. I hope you know that it flew out the window.” He lies, stifling a chuckle. “Father will be displeased.”

“Then go get it.” She mutters into her pillow. “That way you can leave me alone.”

“Now why would I do that when I could stay here and bother my dear little sister?”

“Because I will cut off your favorite appendage with a spoon?” She retorts, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Besides, if you don’t recall, Leon, you’re only 10 minutes older.”

“12.” He corrects, pushing her over to sit beside her. “That still makes you my little sister, twins or not.”

“You’re adopted.”

Leon laughs, placing a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “If I am than so are you. Now, get up. It’s Emely’s archíon today and there’s a lot to do, both before and after Sara arrives.”

There’s a long pause and, worried that she may have fallen back asleep, Leon is about to shake her when she emits another groan. “Maker… is that today?”

“Mhm.”

“Shit.”

“You’re lucky father isn’t here.” Leon says, rising from the bed. “You know he hates when you curse.”

Turning over, Lena pulls her sheets up around her chest before clamping her hand down on her eyes. “Why is it so damn bright in here?”  She groans.

“Well, it’s the morning and that’s usually what happens during the daytime. The sun comes out.” Leon retorts, tossing the stained pillow on the bed before playfully tapping her blanketed foot. “So, get up. Evelyn will draw you a bath and help you get ready. I’ll see you quayside so we can greet Sara and her husband when they arrive.”

As her brother strides from the room, Lena turns her head, peeking through her fingers to where Evelyn prepares a large empty copper tub. Glancing up, she notices her mistress watching and offers a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re awake, My Lady.” She says cheerfully. “I’ll send for Mirren to start filling the tub.”

With another groan, Lena waves a nonchalant hand at her and covers her eyes once more.

After bathing in rosewater and being rubbed down with almond oil, Evelyn helps Lena into a flowy linen dress dyed a light teal with a wide embroidered silver band beneath her breasts and smaller bands fastening the loose fabric attached to her shoulders and elbows. Her medium brown hair is then plaited on the sides and pulled back into a ponytail hanging halfway down her back as she drains the rest of the wine she drank during her bath. Setting the goblet down on the dark carved vanity, she glances up at herself in the polished silver and glass looking glass her father had bought from Seralt for her mother after the birth of her eldest sister, Sara. Her forest green gaze moves over her reflection with a sigh.

“Everything alright, My Lady?” Evelyn asks, looking up at her mistress through the mirror.

“I just keep thinking about my poor sister.” She replies with smirk. “After tomorrow, she’ll be married off to some Orlesian duke and will have to cover up her pretty face with a mask.” She turns her head to look thoughtfully out toward the fluttering curtains of the balcony overlooking the Waking Sea. “When my father took Leon to Val Royeaux last year, he told me that all the women and men looked the same with their giant hats, high ruffled collars and ornate metal masks. I wonder how they can tell their loved ones apart?”

“Perhaps once your sister gets settled into her new home, you can ask her.” Evelyn offers with a smile. “Or maybe she can send for you.”

Lena snorts. “I doubt it. My father already disapproves of my drinking and partying. You really think he’d allow me to go to the place that is rumored to have large, elaborate parties where men and women are paired up with those they secretly desire and make love with everybody else drinking and watching?” Evelyn’s cheeks redden and Lena grins. “I’ve even heard that a couple nobles also have fountains that flow with the finest Antivan wine and have attractive servants with oiled bodies who rub sweet scented oils over the bodies of guests while feeding them strawberries in cream or dipped in chocolate.”

“Maker…” Evelyn breathes. “I cannot even imagine such things. And the chantry allows it?”

Lena shrugs. “Who knows if it’s true? With the way they dress and how much they care about playing The Game, somehow I doubt it.” She rises and crosses the room, enjoying the feel of the cool marble under her bare feet.  Squinting in the bright sun, she raises a hand to shield her eyes as she looks out past the famous double walls that her home is known for at the shimmering water of the Waking Sea. Spotting the ship with the muted yellow sail with the intimidating black skull banner slowly approaching the harbor, her hand drops as a huge grin spreads across her face. She pushes away from the balcony and sprints past Evelyn towards the doorway before skidding to a stop inches out the door as her name is called from within. Turning, she raises an impatient brow at her maid who holds up a pair of braided silver sandals.

“Right… shoes.” Lena says, returning long enough to put them on before bolting out of the room.

Rushing past servants preparing for the festivities tomorrow, Lena flies down the steps and down corridors richly decorated with Orlesian silk curtains in vibrant colors and oil paintings of Trevelyan and Lavigne ancestors hanging in golden frames. She brushes past a couple servants wrapping garlands dotted with bright, fragrant flowers around one of the thick marble pillars near the great hall and skids to a halt as she hears somebody bark her name from nearby. Without even turning around, she cringes as she knows exactly who is approaching from behind. Slowly she swivels out to see the usual sour expression of her father.

Ryland Trevelyan comes to stand before his youngest daughter and crosses his arms. “Alena, what have I told you about running about?”

“That it can lead to injuries.” She sighs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“And?”

“And… that it’s unlady-like for a woman of my rank.” She mutters irritably. “But, father, there’s a very good reason for my hushing. I saw—”

“Do not do it anymore.” He snips. “It’s already hard enough to find a match for you those whispering about your behavior without having you running about like a child. Remember that tomorrow is Emely’s wedding day. I need you to be on your best behavior these next three days. Plenty of suitors will be coming and I need you to put forth a good impression. Do you understand?”

Lena averts her gaze. “Yes.” She mutters. “Even though I have no desire to marry—”

He grabs her arm firmly and turns her to face him. She gasps as her eyes widen. “You will do as I say.” He hisses, quietly. He releases her arm with annoyed groan as he glances around to make sure that nobody seen his recent rough handling before returning his steely gaze to her. He shakes his head. “If your mother could see the type of woman you’ve become… a lewd drunk who parties too much…”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s a good thing that she’s dead then.” Lena sneers. “If you’ll excuse me, Sara’s ship has arrived and I must greet her and her husband.” She dips into a quick curtsy as she feels her father’s scalding gaze on her. “Father.” Rising, she quickly turns away and continues on her way to the harbor.

* * *

 

Leon waits quayside, watching as servants unload the many trunks, crates, and other belongings from the ship as he’s joined by his sister. “Right on time!” He smirks at her before noticing her solemn expression. Instantly, his smirk falls as his brows furrow with concern. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Forcing a fake smile, Lena shakes her head. “No. Just got the usual pep talk from father telling me how much of a failure I am.” She says her voice cracking slightly. She clears her throat, looking away at the gleaming water as she feels the tears pricking her eyes as they threaten to fall. “Nothing new…”

“Hey…” He says softly, touching her arm. She looks down at his hand as she takes in a shaky breath. “Don’t listen to him. You know how he is. He’s always moody when it comes to big events like this.”

“More like he’s moody everyday.” She mutters, shaking her head sadly. “You wouldn’t get it in, Leon.” She says with a sniff. Bringing a hand up, she gently dabs her eyes in an attempt to keep from smearing the kohl lining her eyes. “You’re the only boy. You have no sibling shadows cast over you. Our sisters have found matches and have done their job.” She looks up at her brother, the unshed tears making her forest green eyes shimmer like emeralds in the bright sunlight. “I don’t want to just get married and have children. I want my own life to do what I please.”

Stepping forward, he wraps an arm around her bared shoulders and pulls her close “I know.” He grins, pulls away to smirk at her. “How about this: You be father’s heir and deal with business all day and study war strategy and I will wear pretty dresses and marry lords. Sound good?”

Lena giggles as she imagines him in a dress. “Sounds like a plan. I think you would fill out my dresses quite well.”

“Damn right, I would!” He grins. “Just think. For the next three days we can drink away our sorrows and celebrate Emely’s union.”

“There’s not a wine cask deep enough for that.” Lena mutters. “It’s worth a try at least. What I wouldn’t give for some wine right now—"

Leon’s gaze shifts and he turns her. “You’ll have to wait. Here’s Sara now.”

With a sigh, Lena plasters a smile on her face and turns just as her sister and her husband, Duke Markus Devereux, carefully make their way down the ramp. Watching the couple, Lena’s brows draw together as he leans toward her brother. “Am I losing it or is she…?”

Leon nods. “Looks like it.” He says, waving to her as she looks at them. “Let’s hope that news will put Father in a better mood.”

Splitting away from her husband, Sara strides toward her younger siblings and pulls them each into a hug. “It’s so good to see you two!” Sara gushes, embracing Leon first.

“You too.” Lena nods. “How’s the land of the dead people?” Receiving a pointed look from her eldest sister, she smirks.

“Lena, we’ve discussed this.” She sighs, pulling her into an embrace, her growing belly pressing against Lena’s. “The people there are very much alive. They just have more traditions for those that pass…”

“Like dressing them up and having parties?” Leon adds with a chuckle. Pulling away from Lena, Sara rolls her eyes.

“Maker… you two are impossible.” She sighs, a smile tugging at her lips. “Always have been.”

With Leon on one side of Sara and Lena on the other, they walk with their sister back towards the palace.

“How are the others?” Lena asks, pausing to lend a hand to her as they begin up the stairs. “How are little Iona, Sibel, and Arina doing? Are they with you?” She casts a glance behind them, expecting to see a couple little girls rushing to catch up with their mother.

Taking measured but labored breaths as they climb, she shakes her head. “No. Arina is being fostered by another noble house in Nevarra which is a distant cousin of my husband. Iona has stayed behind with Sibel to focus on their studies. Sibel has just gotten a new tutor this year and I’m told she has a great affinity for music.” She beams as she talks about her children. Stepping up on the landing at the top of the steps, she places a hand on her belly as she pauses to take a breath. She turns to her younger sister. “With luck, hopefully you will be married soon and have children of your own. That is unless you don’t stop your drinking, flirting and turning down suitors.” She raises a brow and Lena rolls her eyes.

“Let me guess. Father wrote to you?” She sighs earning a nod. “What’s wrong with just enjoying my youth? Why must I run off and marry some lord?”

Sara sighs. “Lena, we’ve been over this many times. If Ostwick were to be pulled into a war, we would need allies which is made through marriages. I did it and Emely is doing it tomorrow. One day it’ll be your turn.” She nudges her as they begin walking once more. “I’ve at least convinced Father to allow you to have a long engagement. It’ll give you time to get to know your betrothed before you wed and maybe give you time to forge a bond.”

Lena grimaces. “Marriage sounds horrible. Leon can do it. He already offered to switch lives with me; Dresses and all.”

Alarmed, Sara turns a confused look at her brother who laughs. “I have. I imagine the dresses you ladies wear are quite breezy. What I wouldn’t give for that luxury.”

Sara laughs. “It’s a good thing Father can’t hear you two. He would have a fit.”

Pausing before the giant gates leading through the signature double walls, the conversation turns takes a slight turn toward Arina’s upcoming ball to celebrate her “coming of age” and to scout out potential suitors. Halfway through Sara’s excited babbling, Lena grimaces and tunes out. Instead, she looks up at the gleaming breastplate and helmets of the guards patrolling at the top of the first gate.  Those stationed on the wall on either side of the gate stand as still as statues overlooking the harbor with their pikes held at their side.

The gates finally begin to open as a red face Duke Markus strides up behind them with his own little entourage in tow. Leon takes notice and quickly moves to stand off to the side with Lena as the Duke takes his place beside his wife. As a concerned Sara checks on her husband, Lena catches a glimpse of their father on the other side. Standing tall with his hands clasped behind him, he smiles as his eldest daughter and her husband come into view. The sun hits the silverite laurel crown sitting atop his short dirty blond hair and silver Trevelyan crest pin adorning the right shoulder. Right side of his cape.

“Your Grace.” Ryland greets his son-in-law as they claps each other’s arms. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I hope you have been doing well.”

“As well as can be expected.” The Duke replies.

As they release one another, Ryland turns and exchanges a smile with his daughter. “Your Grace.” He says, leaning in carefully to kiss her on each cheek. Pulling away once more, his hands remain on her arms as he looks down at her protruding belly. “With luck, perhaps you will finally have a boy this time. Every man deserves to have at least one son to be his crown jewel.” As he says this, without looking in their direction, he holds his arm out to Leon.

“Go on, crown jewel.” Lena mutters, nudging her brother forward; smirking as he shoots her an annoyed glance before coming to stand beside their father.

After a long and formal greeting session, Ryland calls for all to return to the palace so that all visiting dignitaries can settle into their guest chambers. As Ryland locks an arm around his son’s shoulders, they lead the parade of people back toward the palace with Lena falling toward the back as she walks alone.

* * *

 

With her main amusement gone to be taken around and shown off to others by their father, Lena beckons a young elven servant to fetch her some iced wine as she slips away from the crowds of nobles whispering ecstatically about her sister and her upcoming nuptials. Retrieving the silver cup of wine from the servant, she mutters a thank you before stealing away onto one of the balconies overlooking the main gate where families were still arriving. She watches with amusement as the occasional older woman with hair like spun silver, styled and decked in jewels sweeps along the carpeted stairs toward the palace with their handsome, young lovers in tow. Most of them, widowed and left with vast fortune, has invited her to many parties. One such woman, an Orlesian Countess by the name of Blanchette D’Pont, had invited her to a party last summer and had gone into a drunken rant about how all women should take a young lover before making out with her young beau and causing a stir among the guests; Not an easy feat given the elegant masks that they were both wearing at the time.

Behind Madam D’Pont, Lena recognized the newest young golden-haired couple that recently rules over Ferelden. Last she had seen of young King Cailan, his new wife was back in Ferelden while he had traveled to the Anderfels to speak with the Wardens at Weisshaupt Fortress. During his progress, he stopped in Orlais and ditched his chaperone and father-in-law to grace a masked ball. When she had found him, he was trying and failing to sneak his hand up the dress of a young woman whom he had been chatting up most of the evening.  _ I doubt having his wife around will deter his wander hands and eyes. _ She thought with a snort.

Before she could replay the embarrassingly funny moment she caught him with his trousers down around his ankles, pissing in a fountain, her eyes were drawn toward another very grand looking carriage coming to a halt at the foot of the long steps. Foot soldiers ran to open the doors and Lena watched with increased curiosity as a stern, buttoned up woman and an even sterner looking older man exit the carriage. The woman looks around and mutters something to her husband who smooths the front of his coat. For a couple exiting such a grand carriage inlaid with gold and elegantly decorated interior, they were two of the more modest looking ones with their dark silk attires, brooding demeanors and pale skin which contrasted with the woman’s dark auburn hair.

Her interest began to dwindle as three other young men exited the carriage until something caught her eye. Glancing up from her newly refilled cup, her eyes focus in on the youngest son of the three. Unlike his brothers who seemed to take after their father with their dark clothes and black hair, this one had auburn hair like his mother, had a slight tan and wore finely embroidered doublet of black and gold. His mother turns to him and immediately says something before smoothing his clothes and hair while no doubt reprimanding him for looking the slightest bit messy.

Even from her high perch, Lena hears the loud, booming voice of her father before below as he greets his wealthy guests. She leans over the railing slightly and catches a glimpse of her father and brother as they step forward. Ryland steps forward, his dark grey cape rustling in the wind behind him. Lena watches as Leon is introduced to the Prince of Starkhaven and his family. While pleasantries are exchanged between them, her gaze shifts as she watches the youngest. He looks around with a bored expression writ across his handsome face. Her lips part in surprise as his gaze suddenly shifts upwards and he meets her gaze. Feeling the heat of embarrassment from being caught staring beginning to rise to her cheeks, she immediately drains the rest of the wine from her cup. When she risks a glance down, she watches as lips curl up into a roguish grin. He gives a slight nod of acknowledgement which is returned with a coy smile of her own.

“Eli, more wine pl—” She begins, turning from the terrace for a refill. Her smile instantly fades as she sees the servant nowhere in sight but instead a tall, stern looking woman in her place. _Great._ _Here we go._

“Starting early I see.” Phaedra sneers, her stern gaze falling on the silver cup in Lena’s hand. “I’m surprised to see you here. Your father was speaking of sending you away.”

“Nope!” Lena says, plastering a fake smile as she raises her cup. “Still here. Father figured it would be good for me to stay, seeing as it’s  _ my _ sister’s wedding celebration and all.”

The disappointment lingers in her aunt’s expression and she makes no effort to conceal it. Her eyes dart behind Lena at the terrace as she frowns. “At the very least, you should come away from the terrace. There’s no need to flaunt yourself like a common whore in a brothel.”

Lena’s brows raise. “I would do no such thing, Aunt Phaedra!” She exclaims with feigned surprise. “I was only advertising myself to all the eligible bachelors out there like the good prized cattle that I am.” She smirks. “After all, isn’t that all I’m good for? To marry off for alliances?”

Phaedra sneers, disdain evidently writ across her elegant features. Crossing her arms over her chest she shakes her head, her tight blonde and brown ringlets that frame her face bobbing as she does so. “Your father is delusional if he believes that any man would want to marry you. No man wants a woman who acts wildly, drinks and flirts shamelessly. You’re better off being sent to the Order or chantry where you can learn some respect.”

Lena’s fake façade drops, a sneer replacing her fake smile. “Well then, it’s a good thing I have no intention to marry then, isn’t it? Now if you’ll excuse me, my cup needs refilling.” She strides toward the doorway and Phaedra snaps out her hand to grip her niece’s hand, her nails biting into her flesh. Lena gasps as her cup is ripped from her grasp and her gaze darkens.

“I think you’ve had quite enough for now.” She hisses, venom dripping from her words as she offers her niece a smug grin. “You have plenty to do today. You have no time to lie about and drink.”

Pasting a fake smile on her face, Lena pulls her hand away and rubs the area nail marked area. “Don’t worry, Aunt Phaedra. I only drink in honor of you and your kindness.”

Turning on her heel, Lena’s smile falls, grimacing as she rubs her hurt wrist.

* * *

 

Sebastian’s gaze remains on Lena as she returns his smile. As she turns away from the balcony, Leon takes notice and turns to look up. Seeing his sister as she turns away, he chuckles.

“Something catch your eye?” Leon asks with a knowing smirk.

“You can say that.” Sebastian mutters, turning his gaze to Leon. “Who was that girl on the balcony?”

“That was my twin sister, Lena. You’ll most likely see her again later tonight at the feast.”

“I’m surprised that she’s not down here to greet us.” Sebastian says. His smile falters as he looks up at the vacant area that she was standing. “Is she the one getting married tomorrow?”

Leon shakes his head, his hair moving before his eyes. He pushes it aside with his hand. “No. That’s my other sister, Emely. Lena is single and has yet to find a match.”

“Is that so?” Sebastian smirks, turning to shoot Sebastian a grin. “If you have no objections, I would love to meet this twin sister of yours. Perhaps you could introduce us later on.”

Leon smirks. “Of course, Your Lordship. Perhaps after tonight’s feast. She’s likely to stay up to socialize so it’ll be the perfect opportunity.”

* * *

 

I gasp catches Lena’s attention as she turns the corner. A wide grin spreads across her sister’s face as she runs toward her “Lena! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Coming to a halt before her younger sibling, a small pale-yellow flower falling from the bronze chain braided in her hair. Her long pale-yellow dress rustles around her as she absently pulls one of the bronze clasps back onto one of her shoulders. “I went to your room but Evelyn said you were out at the harbor.”

Seeing the rosy blush rise to Emely’s cheek, Lena smiles. “Well, here I am. I was just speaking with our dear aunt. She’s exceptionally bitchy today.” She sneers and Emely places a hand on her bare arm with a rueful expression. In a delayed wind from Emely’s arrival, Lena breathes in the scent of roses. “You look beautiful, Em. You look the part of the blushing bride.”

Emely snorts and an easy smile forms. “Do you really think so? By the looks I’ve been getting while I was walking around trying to find you, I expected to have food on my face or something.” She giggles and for a brief moment, Lena saw it. As soon as their father had announced her engagement, she had been wandering around the palace in a constant state of nervousness. Unfortunately for her, Ryland Trevelyan was a stickler for tradition. Just like he had done with Sara, he invited the fathers of potential matches and entertained them for months while they all tried to vie favor with the Teyrn in hopes of gaining a marriage alliance with the third largest city-state in the Free Marches. While Lena had been far too young to young to understand at the time, she had heard stories from some of the elder servants about how nervous her sister had been about meeting her husband for the first time during the ceremony. Now poor Emely was in the same position.

Lena remembered the day. It had been during the ball being held for Emely’s sixteenth birthday. Lena and Emely had been busy giggling over a handsome young man eyeing them from nearby when Ryland called for everyone’s attention. The music stopped and the loud buzz died down as their father raised a cup and spoke of a grand announcement. Even now, Lena recalled the excited whispers as people around them guessed what the grand news was. It was a blur as Emely was called onto the marble landing beside their father, the engagement announced and Emely’s stunned expression.  _ Poor thing never saw it coming _ .

Since that moment, Emely spoke often of her concerns when they were alone. Was the Count who paid a sizable sum for her hand going to be young? Was he old enough to be her father or grandfather? Was he handsome? Would he be kind like Leon or strict like their father? So many questions arose without an answer in return. Even their father was tight-lipped about his daughter’s future husband.

“I doubt it was out of disgust or anything bad.” Lena smirks, reaching up to tuck the strand of hair falling from the braid. She fixes the flowers coming loose. “They were probably in awe at the goddess striding past them.”

“I doubt that was it.” Emely frowns. “They looked at me like I was a courtesan flaunting my body on the street rather than the future bride or Teyrn’s second eldest daughter.”

“Fuck them.” Lena shrugs. “They’re probably just jealous of your youth and the fact that nobody cares about their sad, drooping features.” She motions toward her breasts and drags them downward earning a chuckle. “I wouldn’t doubt it if it was because you turned the attentions of their lovers and husbands.”

“Careful with the language.” She chides as a grin begins to form. “Father seems to be a little more on edge than usual today. Perhaps his mood will improve seeing Sara. I was told she arrived when I was getting ready.”

“Oh, I’m aware of Father’s humor currently.” Lena mutters. Their encounter from earlier rises to the forefront of her brain before she pushes it away. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere being shown off like a prized mare given her condition.”

“Condition?”  Emely frowns, her this brows furrowing. “What do you—"

“There you two are.”

Both ladies turn as Sara strides toward them, a hand resting on her protruding belly. “Speak of the devil.” Lena lightheartedly comments. “Good to see you survived the wave of doting admiration. I imagine Father was pleased.” She receives a pointed look. Before Sara can chide her, Emely gasps. Their attentions turn toward her as she strides forward, placing her hand on her sister’s swollen belly.

“You’re pregnant!” Emely exclaims. “You’re looking so well! You’re practically glowing.”

Sara’s lips curl upward into a smile as she places a hand on her stomach, her eyes shifting down with a loving glance. “The physicians back in Nevarra say that because of how low my belly is carrying, this one will be a boy. Maker willing, I hope they’re right.” For a brief second, her smile falls before returning as she turns her attention to Emely. “If the Maker’s gaze is kind, your husband will get you with child after your wedding night.”

Emely blushes while Lena rolls her eyes. Sara notices and shoots her a disapproving look. “Anyways,” She mutters, turning to Emely once more. “We need to get to the chantry. Services will be starting soon.” Placing a hand on Emely’s bare shoulder, she nudges her. “Come.”

* * *

 

The sisters take their place at the designated benches near the front. While Sara discusses the bridal service, Lena turns to watch as the women file into the chantry and take their seats. Two lay sisters glide down the carpeted aisle on either side distributing collection baskets. “I can’t see why we couldn’t eat  _ then _ listen to the revered mother speak.” Lena mutters. “It’s so quiet in here that I’m afraid of the looks I’ll get when my stomach grumbles and they hear it through the entire chantry.”

“You should have eaten something when you awoke.” Her eldest sister chides. “After services, we’ll distribute alms then head back. We’ll eat soon. For now, you need to be quiet.”

Rolling her eyes, Lena glances back once more and is taken back at the hawk-like gaze of the woman she seen earlier with the three sons. Her youngest comes to mind as the woman frowns severely. “Turn around.” She hears her sister hiss as she tries to physically turns her around.

As the women’s service begins, Lena preoccupies herself with the large stained-glass windows around the chanty depicting the story of Andraste. As customary, mid-way through the service, Emely is called up to receive the blessings of the Maker and his bride. Hesitantly, Emely rises and the light pouring through the windows makes the thin chain braided in her hair glimmer as she turns to look at her sisters for reassurance. Sara smiles as she urges her on and Lena gives her a thumbs up. She gives a slight nod and joins our aunt Phaedra who takes her place on the dais. Shooting Lena a reproachful look, she straightens as Emely cautiously climbs the platform.

“Come, Child.” The revered mother smiles as she offers a hand out to Emely. “There is no need to be afraid.”

Emely kneels with the help of their aunt and the Revered mother motions for a nearby sister to bring over the holy oil and basin filled with fragrant water. Normally, Lena’s mother would be the one to help bless her child on her special day but with no mother present, the task is given to the next oldest happily married woman in the family.  _ Unfortunately for us _ , Lena thought bitterly to herself,  _ that would-be Phaedra _ .

Muttering a prayer, the Mother places her thumb in the little bowl of holy oil and draws the symbol of the Maker’s eye on the young woman’s head. She then dips her fingers in the oil again and mutters a prayer for happiness and fertility to Andraste as she draws the sacred shapes and letters on Emely’s breast while Phaedra pulls down the front of the thin material of her niece’s dress.

Phaedra releases Emely’s dress front and waits as the Mother steps aside before dipping her hands in the fragrant water. “I bless you, dear child.” She says, touching Emely’s face with her wet hands and whipping the water on her cheeks and marking her forehead. “I pray that you will be as happy as I am and as Andraste was as she ascended to the Maker’s side. I pray that you may be ripe with many children and that your health may not suffer as you bring forth life into this world.”

Taking Emely’s hands in hers, she holds them before her and scoops up water from the basin and poises it over the young woman’s cupped hands. “Now, take this water and cleanse yourself of your past life and shed your childhood.”

The water pours from Phaedra’s hands into Emely’s and she takes in a nervous breath before splashing her face. A lay sister quickly approaches with a tan cloth and offers it to her which she takes with a muttered thanks. She wipes the water from her face and hands it back as Phaedra holds out her own hands to help her up. She smiles down at her niece. “Now, my child, rise now as a woman.”

With help from their aunt, Emely rises and is turned to look out among the crowd of women, both young and old. Met with joyful looks, she smiles before she’s finally excused back to her seat for the last sermon.

* * *

 

After the bridal service finally comes to a close, the three sisters follow the long parade of women back to the palace for the ladies only brunch that awaits them. Swept in by the wave of feminine energy, Lena starts to gravitate toward the head table meant for the royal family when she feels somebody grab her hand. Turning, she frowns as she sees Emely, her cheeks blossoming from their short time in the warm Summer sun. “Lena, come with me.” She urges, pulling her sister toward the end of the great hall.

The giant marble pillars are decorated in blooming summer flowers of pale pink and yellow situated on the vines that wind around the thick columns. Off to the side, musicians have already begun to play a soft melody as all the ladies start taking their seats among the tables while servants scurried here and there to fill cups with iced wine and set silver platters of ripe fruit on the tables before the guests in anticipating to the coming meal.

Lena glances longingly at a platter on a nearby table piled with plump grapes, figs, pomegranates and apples while her stomach growls. She gets tugs toward the door once more.

“Please, Lena!” Emely begs. “I just need to freshen up really quickly and then we can return to eat.”

“Isn’t that what Daphne is for?” Lena complains, widening her stance to stay where she is. Her gaze is met with the plead one from her sister and she sighs. “Fine!”

Emely tugs Lena’s hand once more and Lena leans over to swipe a pomegranate from a nearby platter before following.


	2. Archíon Midday

**12** **th** **of Justinian, Dragon 9:29 – Mid-day**

Lena and Emely receive curious looks as they stride down the corridors toward South Wing where Emely’s apartments are. Emely is the first one to push through the door as she calls out for her lady’s maid, Daphne, to fetch some water to clean the oil off her chest from the service. Receiving no response, she calls out her maid’s name again as she heads toward the small servant’s room connecting to her own while Lena grabs the knife from a nearby table. Flopping down onto the silk couch, brandished with silver, Lena stabs the fruit and cuts it in half before setting the knife aside.

“You know, you really should get one of those dweomer basins that they have in the Winter Palace.” Lena comments, grinning down at the fruit as she breaks it open and juicy seeds glisten in the light from the balcony. “Just say the magic word, wave your hand over it and  _ voila! _ The basin magically fills with water.”

Unlike the view from Lena’s apartments, Emely’s room overlooked the giant gardens on the side. She was always bragging to Lena about how she fell asleep every warm summer night to the sweet smell of flowers wafting in from the bushes below and the sound of the bubbling fountain. Lena, on the other hand, preferred the view of the Waking Sea that could be seen from over the famous double walls of the city. Most days, she was perfectly content to lounge on her balcony with a glass of iced wine, watching the seagulls and boats in the harbor. She loved the salty sea air as it intermingled with the sweet scent of lilacs that perfumed her pillows.

Sinking her teeth into the ripe freshness of her pomegranate, Lena’s eyes flutter closed with pleasure as the sweet flavor envelopes her tongue. She feels the juice begin to dribble down her chin and she wipes it away with the back of her hand.

Daphne quickly runs into the room, her face and ears red as she huffs. “Forgive me, my lady!” She says as Emely returns, her big amber colored eyes widening at her mistress. “I was unaware that you returned here before the feast.” Her gaze slides over to where Lena is lounging and quickly drops into a low curtsy. “M’lady.”

Lena waves her off dismissively as Emely comes to stand before her. “It’s alright.” She says with a half-smile. “Would you please fetch me some warm water? I would like to freshen up a little before eating.”

“Right away.” Daphne pushes a strand of light brown hair from her face and scurries off. As Emely waits, she takes a seat beside her sister with a sigh.

“I’m just saying,” Lena says, picking the remaining seeds out of one half and putting them in her mouth. “Magic basins would be useful for when Daphne is busy.”

Frowning, Emely shakes her head. “As nice as that sounds, father would never allow it. You know how much he hates magic. When the Knight-Commander of the Ostwick Circle came was visiting, I heard father tell him to enact the Rite of Annulment and “destroy the problem by ripping out the root”.”

Lena frowns. Ryland Trevelyan wasn’t exactly known for being an open-minded man but suggesting murdering innocent mages was extreme, even for him.

Daphne returns shortly with an ewer; the steam rises from the container as she scurries over to the basin at the side of the room. Fresh water is poured into the basin and Emely stops her as she starts toward the cabinet of perfumes. “There’s no need for that.” She says, rising from her seat. “I’m only washing off the oil from the chantry off so I don’t feel overly greasy while we eat.” Daphne curtsies.

“Of course, madam. Do you need anything else? Wine perhaps?”

“Wine would be great!” Lena grins. Daphne’s thin brows draw together as she looks to her mistress for instruction but Emely waves her off.

“No, that’s fine. Go enjoy the feast.”

Smiling, Daphne thanks her and quickly scuttles off as Emely walks over to the basin and picks up the cloth and soaks it in the water while Lena stares longingly at the thick doors where Daphne had exited. Sighing, she turns to watch her sister’s form bent over the basin as she splashes water on her face before leaning back on the couch. She licks her lips as tastes the remnants of the pomegranate as her mind wanders to her future drink. Suddenly rising, her eyes dart around the room before landing on the elegant-looking glass carafe sitting on the table at the far end of the room. Stealing a glance back at her sister, she rises and strides over. Finding no cup in sight, she picks it up and takes a long draught before setting it back down. She wipes her mouth with the back of her arm and turns in time for a fresh-faced Emely wipe her face with a dry cloth that Daphne placed on the nearby table.

“What?” She asks as Lena snorts when she looks over.

“You seemed to have wiped off all the work that Daphne did this morning when getting you ready for the day.” Lena chuckles, motioning toward Emely’s lovely glass vanity accentuated by silverite legs and mirror in the form of vines wrapping along the edges. Emely takes a seat and glances at her reflection in the mirror. As Lena grabs the small container with crushed rose petals, she frowns at Emely’s sorrowful expression in the mirror. “What’s wrong, Em?”

Her sister’s eyes move up to look at her in the reflection. “This will be my last day as a free woman.” She says, her voice soft. “In 3 days’ time, I’ll be on a ship with my new husband, sailing back to Orlais. I doubt we’ll see each other again.”

“Don’t say that.” Lena shakes her head as she dips her fingers in the fine powder in the container; enough to coat her fingertips before rounding her sister to stand beside her. “Look at Sara. She came back.”

“Only for my wedding.” Emely frowns. “Unless you get married, I’ll be alone in Orlais of all places.”

Brushing the light powder on the apple of her sister’s cheeks, Lena shrugs. “You never know. Perhaps over the course of your wedding celebration, I’ll find a handsome suitor that I don’t entirely hate and be married within the year. If father has his way, I’ll be betrothed to some minor lord and shipped off. Maker knows he’d love to be rid of me…”

Reaching up, Emely touches her sister’s hand and makes her pause. “Father does love you, you know.” She frowns. “The wedding just has him wound up since he wants it all to be perfect. I’m sure he’ll start to relax after the ceremony is over.”

Lena’s lips curl up into a half smile. Emely was always one to look at the bright side of things and see the good in people. The very thought of not having her bubbly and optimistic presence in the palace is going to be depressing.

“I know.” She lies. Deep down, they both knew Ryland better than that but these were not times to speak of it.

With Emely’s cosmetics freshened, she thanks her younger sister and rises and reaches for her younger sister’s hand with a smile. “Let’s go eat! I’ve heard they have those little cakes you like.”

Like two little girls, they run down the corridor giggling as their colorful gossamer dresses flutter behind them. Nearly colliding with a couple noblemen walking down the hall, Lena mutters an apology without stopping. Their sandaled feet slide as they sharply turn a corner toward the open great hall toward the doors open toward the gardens, the rich silk draping fluttering inward with the perfumed breeze.

They barely make it a few feet from the doors when an arm shoots out to grab the surprised Emely. Leon chuckles as Emely looks over at him in surprise before a smile crosses her face. “Hey!” She giggles, playfully whacking him on the shoulder after he releases her. Lena bites her lip as she meets the gaze of the young man standing beside him, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“And where are you two off to in such a hurry?” Their brother smirks, his gaze shifting between them. “You’re lucky I was the one who caught you and not father.” At the mention of their father, Lena’s gaze drops and he frowns.

“For your information, we were just on our way to my bridal feast.” She says, raising her chin. She smiles. “Ladies only.”

“Shame. I look gorgeous in a dress.” Leon grins, making his companion chuckle beside him. He looks at him as his brows raise. “Ah! My apologies.” He motions toward him with his head. “This is my friend, Alexander Devereux. He’s Duke Marcus’ younger brother.”

Alexander bows his head to Emely before returning his gaze to Lena. Leon ignores it as he then motions toward his sisters. “Alex, you already know Lena, I believe.” He says before motioning toward Emely. “This is my lovely older sister, Emely. Tomorrow she will be getting married.”

Alex bows his head once more. “An honor, My lady.” He says, his Nevarran accent curling around his words. As he bows his head, Lena watches as the sunlight lights up his already fair, short and styled hair.  _ Strange, I could have sworn he was a brunette. _ Lena thinks to herself as Alex kisses Emely’s hand.  _ Then again, the candles were dim and the wine made things foggy. _

Turning his attention to Lena, he grabs her hand as well and slowly kisses the back as he looks up at her. “It is wonderful to see you again as well, My Lady. I hope your night last night went well?”

Images of their time the previous night together played through her head. Shadows dancing on the walls of her room as the candles flickered with the night breeze. His hot breath on her neck as he moaned with each thrust. Her fingers gripping as his arms and back in ecstasy as the taste of wine and masculine smell over her lover made for a heady combination.

“Yes.” Lena smiles. “It was definitely a memorable night.”

Alex smiles at this. “I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps tonight after the feast, you’ll join me for a stroll in the gardens. I’ve heard the moon should be full and everything will be bathed in moonlight.”

“Perhaps.” She shrugs. “I may retire early for the night and spend some time with my sister. After all, this will be her last night of a free woman.”

Leon raises a brow at this but says nothing as Alex nods. “Of course. We shall play it by ear.”

Taking their leave, they wait until they are out of earshot before Emely links her arm around Lena’s. “Is there something between you two?” She giggles. “He seemed to be quite taken with you. His eyes rarely left you.”

Resting her head on Emely’s shoulder, Lena grins. “That is because he is a guy and the front of my dress is low-cut. Nothing more.”

Strolling back toward the tables set up in the outdoor pavilion, they take their seats at the head table beside their aunt while servants walk about filling glasses and serving the other guests.

“There you are.” Phaedra says, forcing a smile on her face while she stares daggers at her youngest niece. “I was wondering where you two had run off to. It’s difficult to have a bridal feast without the bride in attendance.”

Lena rolls her eyes as she motions for a servant to fill her cup with iced wine while Emely shoots their aunt a polite smile. “I apologize, Aunt Phaedra. I was the one who pulled Lena away to my apartments to freshen up after the service. She was helping me clean the oil off and reapply my cosmetics.”

“Surely your lady’s maid could have helped with that?” She asks. “I imagine if she had, you would have been here sooner.”

“Sure. Blame me.” Lena mutters as she takes a long drink from her cup. “Soon you’ll be blaming me for animals becoming sick or bad harvests; All things I have no control over.”

Servants walk up to them with silver platters piled high with bread, cheese and even a few with dishes of figs and olives. Lena watches them as she lounges in her chair before her gaze shifts to the other noble ladies as they take small bites and socialize amongst each other. As she empties her cup, she beckons the servant with the wine pitcher over and Phaedra takes notice.

“You may want to slow down, Alena.” She hisses. “I’d hate for you to pass out early in the day and miss your sister’s last day.”

“Would you now, Aunt?” Lena sneers back. “Would you truly hate that I wasn’t around? Seems to me that that would be a dream come true for you.” She smirks as the barb hits where she wanted and her aunt scowls at her.

“How dare you—” She begins to spit when Emely quickly touches her sister’s hand. Turning from Phaedra, Lena’s met with the kind smile of the bride-to-be.

“I’m so happy that I get to spend the entire day with you, Lena.” She says, giving her hand a light squeeze. “I shall miss our time together in the gardens, eating fruit and talking about the lords and ladies who visit.”

“Me too, Em.” Lena smiles sadly. Emely hangs her head and Lena gives her a nudge. “Hey. Just think. You’ll be in what is considered the most fashionable country in Thedas. Unlike here, you’ll be surrounded by pretty things and get to where the most beautiful dresses…”

“I do like pretty thing.” She nods with a nonchalant shrug. “But what’s the point of having beautiful things if you’re not there to share them with and admire them?”

“Don’t look so gloomy, Emely.” Phaedra chides, spreading some soft cheese from a nearby bowl onto her bread. “Once you leave here, you won’t have time to miss your sister what with your wifely duties of producing children and managing a household. You’ll be so busy that you’ll barely even notice your sister’s absence.”

“Gee, thanks.” Lena sneers.

Emely’s expression falls and Sara smiles at her from the other side of their aunt. “It’s really not so bad, Em.” She says, trying to cheer her up. “Having children can be a bit daunting at first but watching them grow is one of the best experiences.”

While Sara’s words were meant to be reassuring, Emely sighs and sinks back deeper into her chair.

Lena jumps up from her own seat and taps the side of her glass. “Attention! Attention ladies!” She calls, making the buzz of conversation slow to a halt while Phaedra glares at her.

“What are you doing?” She hisses.

Ignoring her, Lena smiles and raises her glass. “I would like to make a special toast to my lovely sister, the bride-to-be and the reason we are all gathered here on this lovely summer day in Ostwick, Emely.” She says, turning to shoot her a smile. Emely shyly returns it as everybody else raises their glasses. “My dear Emely,” Lena begins. “While you are not wed until tomorrow, I wish nothing but the best for you. I hope your husband is young, handsome and strong and that you will find happiness in your marriage, whatever form it may take.”

Sara beams from her seat. “To Emely!” She calls. “The lovely bride-to-be!”

Her chant is echoed by the other women around the table and everybody drinks. As Lena sits back down, Emely grabs Lena’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Thank you.” She whispers. Lena returns her smile as she sees her aunt’s irritated expression out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re welcome, Em.”

* * *

 

Shortly following the light feast, the other female guests begin to disperse to enjoy the rest of their days while Phaedra ushers her three nieces to the weaving room situated in the western wing of the palace. Lena groans as she’s ordered to sit before the giant loom. The pale lavender drapes flutter in the summer breeze, bringing with it the fragrant scent of flowers lined beneath the balcony. Emely eagerly takes her seat beside her while Sara joins their aunt at another loom nearby.

“This is stupid.” Lena complains, keeping her voice low so only Emely can hear. “As your final day as a free woman, we’re forced to sit inside on a lovely summer day and weave. You should be going out to the theater or something far more amusing! Even watching that dull boy at the stables lug water back and forth all day would be more fun than this!”

Phaedra inspects the loom before her, running her hands over work already begun. “Who did this?” She asks, directed toward the younger two.

Emely and I exchange a glance before I shrug. “Don’t look at me. I’m hardly in here.”

“I believe it was one of the servant girls.” Emely replies. “They were in here earlier in the week weaving something for my wedding. Probably a gift for my future husband.”

Hearing this, Phaedra frowns and shakes her head. “They shouldn’t have. While the work is quite good, as the bride, it’s customary for the bride and her female relatives to weave the sash used in the ceremony. It shows your commitment to your husband and your marriage.”

“As if just going through the ceremony itself isn’t commitment enough.” Lena mutters.

“Silence, Alena.” Her aunt snarls. “Until you’re wed and can actually reasonably contribute to the conversation, I recommend you keep quiet. You’re here only to help Emely, not distract her.”

Lena frowns and turns to look at Emely who sighs.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Lena mutters. Turning, she grimaces. She lowers her voice. “Perhaps we should create an extra sash with images of male cocks and nude bodies. I imagine our prude aunt would  _ love _ to bring that back to her devout husband.”

Emely’s cheeks flush as a smile emerges. “Her husband would probably believe she became the mistress of somebody while here.”

Lena snorts. “Fair point. There’s no way somebody would ever believe that somebody was slipping it to her in secret. She’s far too horrible.”

Emely suppresses a giggle which earns them a suspicious glance before they set to work.

Lena watches as her sister’s elegant fingers move swiftly over the dyed strands of thread and images begin to appear. Unlike her sisters, Lena was never very good at the “ladylike” activities of sewing, weaving or any of the other household arts. Her skills were few but she excelled at skills like archery and horseback riding, neither of which her father approved much of. Not that that discouraged eon from teaching her anyways.

For hours, Lena watches, entranced by the progress made in the sash depicting images of the old gods and goddesses of the old religion lounged about a meadow, their linen frocks rippling in the wind. About half of the way through, Emely sits back and examines her work, biting her lip. “What do you think?” She asks, turning her unsure gaze toward her sister. “Do you think that’s too blasphemous?”

Lena stares at the sash and shrugs. “Perhaps. I imagine your Orlesian husband-to-be will be shocked to see not the Maker and his bride on it but who cares? It’s your wedding as well and those gods and goddesses are part of Ostwick’s history and culture.”

Emely’s expression falls. “I should start over. You’re absolutely right. My future husband won’t like it.”

Lena stops her as she reaches out to it. “No. It’s beautiful, Em. If he doesn’t like it, he obviously has no taste and should not be minded.” She says, offering a small smile. “Besides,” She points to one of the young goddesses lying beneath an apple tree, her bright blonde locks flowing in the wind as she feeds ripe purple grapes to an older, bearded man in a linen toga sitting beside her. “That looks like Andraste and the Maker.”

“But nobody knows what the Maker looks like.” Emely points out, earning a grin.

“Exactly. Who would know?”

“Who would know what?” Phaedra asks, rising from her seat and coming to stand beside Emely. “You two are quite chatty.”

“Only with prayer, dear aunt.” Lena quips, her eyes widening with feigned innocence. “We’ve been weaving prayers to the Maker in with each layer for a successful alliance.” As she says this, Emely lowers her head to conceal the grin forming. Their aunt glares at her before turning away from her youngest niece to examine the sash. She’s quiet for what seems like forever before she finally speaks.

“This looks well so far.” She says. Lena sees her sister’s shoulders relax with relief. “Although, I’m confused about who these people are supposed to be.”

Emely’s cheeks pinken. “They…um….”

“They’re people flocking to hear the word of the Maker and his bride.” Lena quickly says. Emely shoots her an appreciative glance.

“I see.” Phaedra says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do remember that Andraste was from Ferelden, correct?”

“Of course, Aunt.” Emely nods.

“Then why are they dressed in Ostwick clothing?”

Lena rolls her eyes. “It’s an interpretation.” She sighs. “She was simply bridging the gap of our religious beliefs and our classical style. I think it looks magnificent.” Rising, she walks over toward the servant standing in the corner with a silver platter with glasses and an ewer. She takes a glass from the platter and holds it out to be filled as she turns her head to regard their aunt. “As long as it shows Andraste and the Maker, what does it matter? Nobody aside from Emely and her husband will see it.” Thanking the servant, she takes a long drink and grimaces as its only water. Phaedra doesn’t even crack a smile at her dismay.

“Divine Beatrix might when she comes to perform the ceremony.” She says tersely. “To portray Andraste is any other form other than what she was…”

Lena rolls her eyes. “It’s not as bad as you make it out to be! When riding through the city, I’ve seen courtesans dress and claim to be the Maker’s bride on the streets!”

“Watch your tongue!” She hisses.

Lena means to stop, seeing the somber expressions of her sisters but she feels a rush and continues. “No! That sash is a beautiful work of art that depicts Andraste and the Maker in glorious fashion. If anything, Beatrix would find it lovely and praise my sister for her skill.”

“Maker, I didn’t mean to start a fight!” Emely cries from the sidelines. “I’ll just start over.”

“No!” Lena frowns.

“No.” Phaedra sighs. “It’s too late. You won’t have time to make a new one before the feast. Continue with that one. Hopefully, Her Holiness will not be  _ too _ offended.” Impatiently, she waves over the servant as Lena takes her place beside a miserable looking Emely who continues her work.

“I’m sorry, Em.” She frowns. “She just really gets under my skin sometimes.”

Emely sniffs. “It’s alright. Thank you for sticking up for me at least.”

**Author's Note:**

> OOC Note:  
> Quick explanation of how my headcanon wedding celebration works. In Ostwick, weddings take place over the course of 3 days; Archíon, Enosion, and Telikó méros. Each day has its own traditions and rituals.  
> Archíon - means "The Beginning". Last day of singledom. Bride spends the day with female family members, goes to chantry service for bridal blessing and is later presented for the first time to her future husband at the feast. At night, goes with all women, family and quests in procession to chantry to make sacrifices.  
> Enosion - means "The union". This is the actual wedding ceremony followed by a wedding feast. Consummation that can be watched if desired.  
> Telikó méros - means "Final Party". Big festival with fighting pits, jousts and so on while bride and groom sit together at table and receive wedding gifts. Second half couple is free to do as they wish as long as they spend time together and a final grand feast is held.


End file.
